Today has been the worst day of my life. What makes it even worse, I'm not even exaggerating. I wish I was. Even my days back in England, working as a poor blacksmiths apprentice and almost being used by Estella, cannot compare to what Damien has put me through today.

He truly is the Prince of Hell; Prince of Evil; Son of Satan.

He's vile, and he makes me hate myself. Not for the dire acts he commits while using my body, but the weird sensations I feel when he's joined me as one.

He drives me crazy. Making my heart race, my stomach twist and my cheeks flush.

There's a strange aroma about him,
there has to be. There must be something that makes me feel like this when he's around. It cannot possibly be that I'm taking a fancy in someone so horrible.

Horrible is actually an understatement.

Damien is out of control. He's hurting people, physically and mentally. Yesterday, he gave Tweek Tweak a concussion. Today, he fought with Eric Cartman and got him sent to the hospital. Plus, he tarnished the memories of my peers, placing the blame onto poor, innocent Butters Stotch.

Not only did he hurt the pupils, he hurt the teachers. He caused tears to freely flow down Mrs. Sanders' cheeks (a Religious Education teacher who was very passionate about her subject). Damien insulted her and her family, and when we were sent to PC Principle's office he threatened the man.

People are staring to fear me. Me! A boy who they once bullied mercilessly is now one of their fears. I saw dear Mrs. Sanders flinch when we walked by, and it hurt so much. She adored me as a pupil, and now she's scared.

The fact is, Damien didn't even tone himself down when we left the school. He decided to go into town, and the first thing he did was a personal insult to me and a felony.

He insulted my choice of clothing, calling it ugly and other curse words I don't wish to think about. Then, he stole from the shop. Stole. Clothes that he claimed would make me feel better.

He couldn't have been more wrong. I felt terrible. The jeans were far too tight, and the rips allowed the cold to bite my skin. His choice of top wasn't any better; the loose sweater hung like a sack, exposing my shoulders at random. Finally, he choose an accessory that would bring tears to my mother's eyes and anger to my father's. A cross necklace, the cross in question being upside down.

As a Christian, though I'm not a very committed one, the necklace felt like a personal insult from Damien, and not a fashionable item.

He knew of my religion, and had mocked me countless times for it when we first became 'aquatinted'. I suppose our meeting was at the fault of my own stupidity. Or maybe I was just desperate to become friends with Christophe and better know Estella.

Either way, I still went over to Estella's house, and still used Christophe's Ouija Board. I was the one that ended up with the unfortunate burden of a demon, and while I'm happy Estella didn't get possessed I can't help but wish it would've happened to Christophe.

I attempt to wash away any thoughts like that. It's cruel to wish something as unfortunate as this upon another human being. For all I know, Christophe could also be possessed; there may have been more than one demon within the board.

I'm knocked out of my thoughts when Damien stops walking. Confused, I scan the building stood in front of us. It's a rectangular building, painted black. In neon pink, the words 'Gay Bar' are spelled out, flashing brightly although it's daylight.

Damien stretches, and I feel the loose jumper ride up my stomach, exposing it to the harsh cold.

Damien, please.

I attempt to speak to the dark haired demon, he chuckles.

Didn't know this town had a gay bar, very interesting

Please don't go in

Damien ignores my pleas, bumping the door open with a swish of my hip. The chill and smell of the long lasting winter is immediately replaced with a hot and sweaty environment. The air is stuffy, spelling purely of smoke and alcohol.

Damien chuckles once more as he inhales the intoxicating scents.

That's a new scent

I don't reply to him, just silently hope that he won't go any further into the bar.

Of course my hopes are in vain. Damien enters further into the place, with an annoying sway to his walk.

As soon as we're in the main room, a place populated with dancing and drinking men aged 20 and up, I can feel the eyes on me. They burn. Gazes filled with desire for younger males move along my form as Damien takes a seat on a stool at the bar.

The bartender gives Damien a weird look, but he just winks and asks for a drink. Although the bartender hesitates, he soon begins pouring some clear liquid into a glass.

The lustful stares from the other men are just getting more intense as Damien stretches once more. This time, it's purposely. He raises his arms up, the loose shirt falling from my shoulder and exposing the bare flesh. The cool metal of the cross chain is almost comforting as it takes my mind off the unwanted stares of others.

I can literally feel the eyes on you Pip,

Damien starts, reminding me of the uncomfortable situation. It makes me want to cry.

I didn't realise people found you so attractive

Please Damien, I beg of you. Please, can we leave?

I get a laugh instead of a response, and I find myself moving. Damien spins on the bar stool, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. Damien's gaze is locked onto a man; he looks to be 27, with light stubble, unruly brown curls and a grey eyed stare.

As Damien decides to run my tongue over my bottom lip, the grey eyes of the stranger meet my blue. He's approaching in long strides, clearly eager to be close to me.

Well, Damien. It's not me doing any of these sick actions. It's not me trying to seduce an older male. It's Damien. All Damien.

"Hey," the curly haired stranger's voice is deep in an attempt to sound seductive. In any other situation, I would have giggled at how hard he's trying. He sits down on the stool beside us, arm resting on the bar in another attempt to look good. "What's your name?"

I pray that Damien doesn't give out my real name. I pray, pray and pray.

Praying is pointless.

Damien's voice echoes in my mind, and he speaks before I get the chance to reply.

"My name is James." He answers the man's question.

"Age?"

I pray once again that he won't give out my real age.

"Just turned 18 a few days ago." Damien answers with a lie once more. I silently thank him. However, followed by this answer is Damien gently biting down on his bottom lip and running his hand up the stranger's thigh.

The brunette gasps, giving Damien a wide eyed stare. "Damn kid. You don't even know my name."

"I don't need your name to have a good time." Damien whispers, my voice in a seductive tone. It's strange to hear words like this come from my mouth, and I long to beg of Damien to stop.

However, he'll just tell me that 'begging is pointless' and then he'll continue with the guy. Anything I could try to do, fight free, resist Damien, is pointless. I won't be able to throw him out of my form. I won't be able to get out of his situation.

Even if I did try to resist Damien, it would just cause a pitiful gasp or yelp to leave my lips, which would further the grey eyed male's intentions.

Damien runs his hand further up the males thigh, watching as the older's eyes darken and he squirms. Damien chuckles to himself, suddenly climbing atop of the man. He positions himself on the stranger's lap, looking down as my hair brushes the brunette's face.

"My, my." Stranger whispers, hands positioned at my waist. "You're really something James."

"I've been told." Damien replies, one hand cupping the male's stubbly cheek while the other begins to slip under his shirt. He grunts, grip slipping down to my ass as he squeezes.

Damien squeaks, clearly not expecting the move. Once again, in any other circumstance I would have laughed at Damien's reaction, but this man's hands on me, makes me want to scream.

"Good God," the man says, and an uncomfortable lump forms underneath me.

I notice with utter horror that the squeak from Damien, the squeak in my voice, my accent, has caused the stranger to become extremely aroused.

Before anything can progress any further, a hand clasps around my wrist. I thank God as I'm pulled off the stranger, and stumble into the chest of Gregory.

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Totally didn't write a risky scene between a 27 year old and 16 year old in school.

I mean, technically it's not a 16 year old? Damien is like, ageless.

It's for the plot it's fine

Cough